In The Supply Room
by darlingamelia
Summary: Takes place during episode 5, season 13, when Meredith finds Amelia in the supply room. Meredith suspects Amelia of looking for drugs. Was she?
1. Supply Room

**AN: My second story! I hope that I'm getting better at this as it goes on, but who knows. This is my take on Meredith finding Amelia in the supply closet looking for pregnancy tests in season 13, but in my story, she isn't looking for tests. Feedback is welcomed as always! -darlingamelia**

 _Meredith's P.O.V._

Cooling blankets. I just need a few cooling blankets then I head back to my patient. No distractions, nothing. Cooling blankets. I push open the supply closet door, and see Amelia's back turned towards me. Great, a distraction. A talkative distraction too. Amelia quickly turns around as she hears me enter and a smile spreads across her face.

"Oh! Hi! What do you need?" She looks like a deer in headlights.

"Cooling blankets," I respond. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing," she says, almost too quickly.

"Really? Because you look super sketchy," I say, not believing her. She darts her eyes around the room and they stop at the door.

"Close the door," she says. I immediately become concerned.

"Amelia, you're not-," I take a breath and regret what I'm about to say, "You're not looking for drugs, right?" Amelia's eyes begin to water and I wonder if I brought up the wrong idea.

"I only wanted something small I didn't want to take the Oxy again I swear I-," her breaths become unsteady and without realizing, my mouth is opened in shock. I've heard stories of Amelia relapsing, taking drugs in her past, but I never thought I'd be there if it happened again. I was wrong. I didn't know what to do, I've seen people deal with the attempting of suicide, being addicted to alcohol, but I've never met anyone who was addicted to drugs, and hid it so well. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I was completely ignoring Amelia's hyperventilation. I put down my cooling blankets and walk closer to her. My hands on her shoulders, I gently help her sit down against the wall so she doesn't over work herself and pass out. She was breathing fast now, and she couldn't keep up with it. Tears were falling down her face faster than I've ever seen tears fall before.

"Amelia, deep breaths," I try to help, but it's no use. I begin to wonder if she can even hear me. During panic attacks, your mind tends to block everything out and only focuses on one thing: breathing. I position myself so that I am now infront of her, squatting, hands on her knees and looking her in the eye. I grab her chin with my left hand and move her face, gently, so that she is looking at me and only focusing on me.

"Amelia, breathe in and out," I try to show her my breathing in case it'd help her realize what she was meant to do. It's no use. Her breathing is becoming more staggered, and her eyes are darting around the room. She is terrified.

I stand up and look for a bag on the shelf behind her. Finally finding one after what seems like twenty minutes but in reality was more like ten seconds, I squat back down to her level and hand her the bag to help her breathe. She uses it and I notice it seems to help slow down her breathing enough as to where her face is no longer red. I move back a few inches to give her some space. After about fifteen minutes of Amelia breathing using a paper bag, and myself watching her to make sure she shows no abnormal signs, she puts the bag down and leans her head against the wall behind her. Sweat drips down her forehead mixed with tears dripping down her eyes. By this point, I'm sweating too.

"Thank you," is the only thing she manages to say through her worn out, exhausted voice which usually shows possessiveness but now only shows neediness, as if she were a child again. I finally get out of the squatting position, my knees on fire, and sit next to her, leaning against the wall.

"Amelia, I love you. And I want to do everything I can to help you. But you know we have to talk about this, right?" I ask, hoping it's not too heavy on her and not too soon. She takes a deep, shaky breath, and pulls a little baggie out of her scrubs pocket. It takes me a second to realize what it is.

"Amelia," I say, turning to her.

"I haven't taken any," she is doing everything she can to avoid looking me in the eye.

"Amelia," I say again, more sternly this time.

"I promise. I was going to, but I didn't, okay?" I was expecting her to give the bag of Oxy to me, but instead she put it back in her pocket and stood up. Wiping her tears away, she looks back at me.

"Thanks again," and then she's gone. I stay in this position on the floor for a few minutes, trying to take in all that just happened. And then I realize. I just led a recovering addict walk away with a bag of drugs in her pocket.

 **AN: If I get any reviews on my last story or this one, I'll make a chapter two! Please let me know what I should work on, what you liked about this story, and what you didn't like! I'd also love to take in some ideas that you might have for me to write a new fanfiction about. (All my fanfictions will include Amelia). Thanks for reading! -darlingamelia**


	2. Joe's

**AN: Thanks for the reviews and favorites and follows on this story and my other! I really hope you guys are enjoying them. As always, the more reviews I get the more I'll update! Also if anyone has any requests for a storyline about Amelia, I'd love to hear them and then write them for you. Enjoy this little chapter! -darlingamelia**

Amelia hasn't shown up for work for two days. She hasn't been at home. I assume she's with Owen in his trailer. Or, should I say, Derek's trailer. Everyone thinks she caught a bug or is on vacation, at least that's what Amelia has told them. I'm not buying it. She was a mess. A complete mess when I saw her break down in the supply room. I've never seen anyone like that, especially not someone who makes themselves seem so put together. My heart sunk into my stomach when I realized what she was trying to do to herself in there, and I feel sick when I imagine what could have happened if I never went to get the cooling blankets. I walk into the attending's lounge and sit on the comfy couch with my coffee and papers. I haven't had much time to think or any place quiet to sit, so now was my chance. I set my coffee down on the table and in comes Owen. Just my luck.

"Hey," I say with a short and quick smile.

"Hey, Meredith. What's up?" he asks while he makes himself a cup of coffee.

"Working on some papers. What's up with you?"

"I'm not on call and I'm not tired, so I figured I'd come in here and hang out for a bit. Is that alright? Am I bothering you?" he asks.

"No, no not at all," I lie.

"Great. Hey you didn't happen to see Amelia today did you? She hasn't returned my calls for a few days," he says, his eyebrows getting closer together.

"No, I haven't. She's not staying with you?" I ask while sitting up more, getting more and more concerned as the conversation goes by.

"No... I thought she'd be staying at you? She does live with you and Pierce right?" He says slowly and confused.

"Yeah-I mean no-no she hasn't been staying with me, yes she does live with us. But I haven't seen her in two days," I say, the tone of my voice growing more upset. Owen looks up at me and gets a look on his face almost like he just found out his childhood puppy has died.

"I'll try calling her again," I say and step out of the lounge.

 _Ring._

 _Ring._

 _Ring._

 _"Hi, you've reached Dr. Amelia Shepherd, I can't get to the phone right now but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks. Bye."_

 _Click._

"Amelia, it's Meredith. Again. Owen just told me that you _aren't_ staying with him. You _aren't_ staying with me, so where the hell are you? Call me back today or I call the police. We're worried about you," I look at my phone, sigh, then hang up. I guess saying I'd call the police was a bit extreme. I'd call Addison first, knowing that the two are extremely close.

 _Ring._

 _Ring._

 _Ri-_

"Meredith! Hey! How have you been?" I hear a perky Addison Montgomery say. I take a deep breath, knowing that cheerful voice will be gone soon.

"Good, thanks. Hey listen, I have a random question."

"Hit me!"

"Is Amelia staying with you in L.A.?," I ask, praying to God she says yes.

"Amelia? What? No. I haven't seen her in months. Why? Is she okay? Did she start taking drugs again? God, I swear if she did. Where is she? Meredith?" I wait for her flow of questions to stop before I answer.

"Yeah- Um, she's fine. I think. I hope. I haven't seen her for a few days, she hasn't been at work. I don't know where she's staying. She had a bit of a meltdown last week, but I thought she'd be okay. I'm an idiot. She had dr-" I get cut off.

"What? She hasn't been at work? You don't know where she is? Meredith call the police right now or I will. I swear I-,"

"Addison, I got it under control. I was just making sure she didn't fly to L.A. to see you before I took extreme measures, I'll ca-,"

"Extreme measures? Meredith, we are talking about a girl who has relapsed multiple times. For all we know, she could be at a bar right now, drinking her life away, meeting some insane junkie who will only get her more knocked up." Addison continues to ramble for what seems like hours but all I can think of is what she said before. She could be at a bar right now.

"I got it, thanks Addison. I'll call you and let you know once I hear anything. Bye," I hang up the phone, looking across the street at Joe's.


	3. Drunken

As soon as I hang up the call with Addison, I look at Owen who is looking back at me, eyes filled with worry.

"She's not with Addison," I say and take a shaky breath, "I'm going to go check Joe's. Tell Bailey Zola got sick if she asks where I went," I say. Owen nods and I rush out the door.

Arriving at Joe's, I look around frantically. My eyes dart all over the bar, and after a few minutes of looking around, I spot a dark headed girl in the back corner with her head on the table. _Amelia_. I fast-walk over to her and when approaching her side, I notice the bruises on her neck and her matted hair that smells strongly of alcohol.

"Amelia?" I ask, and she looks up at me with her bloodshot eyes.

"Meredith, hey, what's up?" She asks with a slurred voice.

"Amelia, where have you _been_? Owen and I were worried sick about you. Why didn't you call me?" I ask, getting more and more angry with her. She could of at least let us known she was _alive_ for God's sake.

"I lost my phone," she says, looking back down at her hands, avoiding my question about where she has been. I put my hand on her shoulder to make her look at me and she flinches.

"What are these bruises on your neck from?"

"I fell," she says, shortly.

"We both know that's not true," I say, "Let me look," I insist, and move her hair away from her neck. She jumps back and glares at me, which leaves me startled.

"Amelia, I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help, I'm fine, just go please," she says looking at the opposite direction of me.

"Amelia, I called Addison," I say, which gives me her attention as she immediately looks up at me, "She's worried you're using again. And so is Owen, and so am I. You're _drunk_ , Amelia. I can tell. Please tell me you haven't taken anything."

"I haven't. I'm not drunk. I have to go," she says and quickly gets up. She puts her hand on her head and grabs on to the table with the other. I get up and help steady her.

"You _are_ drunk. Let me drive you home please," I suggest, praying she lets me.

"Fine. I'm _not_ drunk. It's only because I don't want to walk home," she insists. I help her out of the bar, only stopping a few times to let her vomit up her mistakes she drank from last night.

Arriving at the house, I lead her upstairs into her room, and help her change out of her clothes into one of her over sized shirts and sweatpants. I take her alcohol-scented clothing and bring them to the laundry room. Instinctively, I look through her jean pockets and jacket pockets to make sure there's no money in there. Instead of finding money, I find her phone, which she said she had lost, some hair ties, and the little baggy of drugs that she had with her a few days ago. Only this time, instead of the eight little pills sitting inside of it, the bag was empty. She _has_ been using.

 **So sorry for this short and crappy chapter! I've been in the hospital for the past few days but I'm home now so hopefully that means more fanfics to come! Again, the more reviews I get, the more I'll update. I enjoy knowing that you guys are enjoying the stories! x -darlingamelia**


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